


The Princess and the Pirate

by we-should-buckle-some-swash (Aculsemy)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3649116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aculsemy/pseuds/we-should-buckle-some-swash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one shots and drabbles. Posted under the same name on FFN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Could Handle It

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 4x16

 

He woke first, though it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Killian had always been among the first to rise, long before his centuries aboard the  _Jolly_ . As he slowly ebbed back into consciousness, he felt the weight of her on his shoulder. Without opening his eyes, he shifted slightly, his hooked arm tight around her waist, as he pulled her closer. Her scent, sweet, and light,  _and so her_ , invaded his senses.

Under normal circumstances, he would relish the feel of her, pressed against him. The warmth of her body seeping into his bones. But something in the loft felt _off._ An uncomfortable pricking made the hairs on the back of Killian's neck stand on end. The vague sensation that something was wrong. Then, he remembered. The flash of purple light. _Another bloody curse or spell or some nonsense._ The crushing dread that had consumed him just before the enticing pull of sleep had. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness. That he was powerless to stop whatever evil the Crocodile had in mind for Emma.

His eyes shot open as he bolted upright, suddenly very much awake. His neck was stiff from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in, but he seemed no worse for wear. Killian clenched his jaw as he took in the space, his arms still protectively wrapped around her. He very much doubted the villains had loosed a sleeping curse without some nefarious motive in mind. Finding no imminent threat, he gently jostled Emma, her head still cradled against his shoulder.

"Swan," He said, the lilt in his voice more pronounced than normal. He cleared his throat and willed himself to sound more awake. "Emma, love, are you alright?"

He felt a shaky panic starting, deep within his chest when she didn't respond. Desperately, he felt for her pulse under her jaw. Killian's eyes darted across her features, her long eyelashes fanned out across her cheek, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks rosy.

_If something had happened to her…_

He let out a shuddering breath when he found her pulse. _Strong, just like her._ Tenderly, he ran his fingers through her hair, tucking her silky strands behind her ear. Emma stirred, _finally,_ in his arms, her brows furrowed and a frown on her lips. He closed his eyes in relief and kissed her forehead softly, his lips lingering. Trying in vain to chase away the feeling the mere thought of her absence had left.

"A sleeping spell? Seriously?" Emma grumbled into his shoulder. Her voice thick with sleep and laced with confusion. Killian smirked at her trademark gumption; more than relieved it was still intact. The vice like feeling gripping his heart lessening. Gingerly she raised her head to meet his eyes. Her bright green eyes were still heavy with sleep, her blonde tresses adorably mussed from her nap, however brief. The right side of her face was slightly red and there was a long crease on her cheek from his leather jacket. _Gods, she was stunning_. She rested her hand on his chest, as if she too were loath to let him go. Her fingers tightening around the lapel on his jacket.

"Aye," Killian said, gently tracing the indent on her cheek with the back of his hand. His smirk softening to a small, genuine smile when Emma leaned into his touch. "Courtesy of Maleficent, I'd wager."

"Henry," Emma said quickly, suddenly tense in his arms. Her eyes wide as she untangled herself from his embrace. "And my parents… God, how long were out?"

"A little more than an hour," Killian said as he pulled himself to his feet with a quick glance at the clock glowing on the stovetop. His jaw was tight as the unspoken words floated between them. _That there was no telling how much damage the villains had been able to cause in that time_. "Let's find your family, shall we, Swan?" Killian said softly, as he moved purposely towards the door.

"Killian," Emma said, gently catching his elbow. He turned back towards her, his brow raised questioningly. Tightening her fingers around his necklace, she pulled him towards her. Her lips silencing any questions he might have asked. She kissed him slowly, as if she were trying to memorize each and every contour of his lips. Killian pulled her flush against his body and groaned into her mouth with she arched against him. Her hands drifted to cup his face, pulling him close, _impossibly closer_. Her kiss becoming more demanding, more desperate. His own hand delved into her hair, kissing her for all he was worth, _because Gods he loved this woman_.

_She was his happy ending._

"Far be it for me to complain," Killian said, breathing heavily, warmth coursing through his veins, when they finally broke apart. He rested his thumb against the dimple in her chin, pulling her eyes back to meet his own. "But what was that for?"

"I just, before, when we saw the magic," Emma swallowed thickly, her eyes, still fierce despite the fact they were brimming with tears, darting between his own carefully. "There wasn't time, but I just…"

"I know," Killian said, gently brushing his lips against hers, when her words failed her. "I know, Emma."

 _He couldn't lose her either_.

"Come on," Emma said as she smiled weakly and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. Her voice rough. "We should go…"

With a dull click, the apartment door unlocked and Killian swore he could feel the hope radiating off of Emma. _She really had became quite the optimist of late._ They let out a collective sigh of relief when Mary Margret and David strode into the loft. The author's page, safely in David's hands. _The Queens had failed in that regard at least._

"Emma," Mary Margret said, her voice suspiciously shaky as the door closed with a quiet thud. "We have something we need to tell you. It can't wait."

"Henry?" Emma asked, after swallowing thickly. Fear clearly painted on her face. "Is he—"

"He's okay, we were just with him, but Emma," David interrupted, his words instantly reassuring her, despite his hesitation to continue. "You might want to sit down."

"I'll just—" Killian began motioning towards the door, but Emma captured his hand in hers. She squared her shoulders and jut out her chin, as if she were preparing for battle. _Later, he would think that perhaps she had been._

"Stay, please?" She asked, with a small wavering smile.

"Always, Swan," He said, squeezing her hand gently. He smiled at her as they took their place at the table across from Mary Margret and David, braced for whatever news they had to share. He didn't need 300 years of experience to know whatever was coming wasn't good, but he knew, _whatever it was_ , they could handle it.

 


	2. They Understood Each Other

**Warning: Contains spoilers for season 4B! Speculation** **fic for upcoming episodes.**

* * *

Killian knew why she had to go. To reclaim Regina's happy ending. It was what she did; she was the Saviour after all. But it was more than that. This little, _road trip_ , as Swan had taken to calling it, came at an opportune time. It would allow her some much needed space from her parents. To gain some perspective in light of their startling confession. Her decision, not to run, but to get some room to breathe, made perfect sense to him. They'd always understood one another, practically from the moment they met. Although, this understanding did little to quell the dull ache that had settled in his chest at the thought of her parting. However short she claimed it would be.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched her hug Henry tightly, murmuring something quietly to him out of his earshot. The lad returning the affection in kind, despite his increasingly turbulent teenage hormones. The Charmings stood awkwardly off to the side of the group and he fought to maintain what he hoped was an expression of neutrality as he watched Emma turn towards them. Her shoulders back, her jaw clenched, her eyes dark. Her hair shone like spun gold in the fading light. _She was a vision._ Her body language was tense as she exchanged a few terse words with her parents.

"Hey," Emma said, as she walked towards him with the beginnings of a coy smile on her face. She'd obviously donned her false bravado as well as he red leather jacket this morning. "Don't worry so much, it's only a couple days. Maybe a week."

"Aye, Swan," Killian replied with a small smile of his own. Although his didn't quite reach his eyes. "Doesn't mean I won't miss you, love." _Or worry about you._

"I always knew you were sentimental," Emma said, lacing her fingers through his. He swayed towards her involuntarily. His thumb gently strumming along the back of her hand.

"Perhaps," He conceded with a small nod. _Always when it came to her._

"It means a lot to me that you'll keep an eye on Henry. It's just, things with my parents right now…" Her voice faltered and his heart positively ached. He longed to sooth the furrow from her brow. To mend the discontent between her and her parents. Gods know he would do anything, had he any clue where to begin.

"I know, love," He said with a sad smile. "But I give you my word, no harm shall come to your lad while I draw breath—"

"Don't even joke," Emma said, squeezing his hand tightly. She rested her free hand over his heart. Neither saying what the other was surely thinking. That as long as Gold and the Queens of Darkness were still at large, no one's safety was guaranteed, her son and pirate included. "Just make sure he does his homework and goes to bed at a reasonable time. Oh, and don't teach him to cheat at cards. Or show him your loaded dice."

The back of Killian's neck positively itched and he felt the tips of his ears turning pink. Surely, there was no point in troubling Emma with the knowledge that the lad was already more than well acquainted with both the pirate's cards and trick die. He'd tell her of course, _all in good time._

"You needn't worry, love," He said with small smile, hoping Emma would blame his reddened ears on the wind. "Henry and I will get along just fine until you return."

"I know," Emma said, quietly. She toyed with the charms on his necklace, as her eyes slowly traced his features. As if she were trying to etch him in her memory. They stood together, neither saying anything, neither willing to break away first. Killian swallowed thickly as he brushed a strand of her hair over her shoulder with his hook. He knew his concerns were misplaced. His behaviour foolish. Emma had explained she would be in contact with him via the communication device. But still…

Well the circumstances this time were markedly different, he couldn't help but recall the last time he'd sent her off in her ridiculous yellow vessel. How his hair had stood on end as the rolling thunder sounded in the distance, the bloody demon Pan's curse imminent. How his entire body had ached to pull her into his arms and never let go. _But he hadn't._

 _He'd be damned if he made that mistake again._ Without further preamble, Killian pulled Emma into a crushing hug, his arms tight around her. Without missing a beat, she melted into his embrace, toying with the perpetually unruly hair at the nape of his neck. He burrowed his face into her shoulder as she kissed the column of his throat, her lips lingering.

"There's not a day that will go by that I won't think of you," Emma whispered, her words hot against his neck.

He shook his head and a puff of air escaped his lips as he realized, _of course_ , her thoughts mirrored his own. He couldn't help but smile, as he recognized his own words, his declaration of his feelings towards her repeated back to him. Words that she'd so obviously remembered from so long ago. He couldn't have squashed the feeling of elevation had he tried. He swallowed thickly and racked his uncharacteristically blank mind for the words he desperately needed her to hear.

_Be careful._

_I'll miss you._

_Come back to me._

_I love you._

_Gods, I love you._

"Good," He whispered finally, his voice cracking slightly with emotion, yet solemn. He held her more tightly. The warmth of her body seeping into his own. Her blonde locks tickling his nose as he breathed, as he greedily inhaled her scent. He knew he had to let her go, that he was only making this more difficult for her, but he was selfish. The supposed bloody length of time of their separation made no difference. He didn't have the strength to let her go. _Not this time._

Far too soon, Emma pulled away, but not before she kissed his cheek roughly. Reluctantly, he let her slip from his arms and watched wordlessly as she climbed into her bug. Regina was already waiting in the passenger seat, mumbling something about inadequate leg room. Emma shot him one last shaky smile and he knew he'd said the right thing, _that she'd understood his meaning_ , when he saw her fierce green eyes overflowing with emotion. After all, they'd always understood each other.


	3. Long Distance Charges May Apply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers! This one shot (because my muse apparently refuses to work on any of my multiple chapter works anymore) takes place when Emma is on her road trip somewhere around 4x19. Reviews and prompts are always welcome :)

He hadn't slept well, not since she'd left. It was ludicrous. It wasn't as if they had ever shared a bed. And she most certainly had not spent the night.  _Not yet._ She'd told him not to worry. Rightfully so; he knew the Saviour was more than capable of taking care of herself. But still, night after night, he found himself lying on his back in his bunk, staring listlessly at the ceiling. Thinking about her. Worrying about her. Missing her. The pull of sleep dangling just out of his grasp. The feeling was new to the Captain.  _And bloody frustrating._ While a staggering number of actions during his centuries of piracy ought to have left him tossing and turning, for whatever reason it simply hadn't been the case. There'd been nightmares of course. Hundreds,  _thousands,_ of nights plagued by terrible visions, but sleep had never alluded him before. Not like this. Not until she'd left.

Despite the lingering chill in the air, he'd moved from Granny's back to his ship. He found that sleep claimed him more easily amidst the familiar, gentle rocking of the _Jolly_. Not much more easily, mind you. But it was better than nothing. Opting for sleep instead of warmth was a simple choice. Especially since he had a sneaking suspicion he'd need his wits about him once Zelena returned to Storybrooke. He had no intention of allowing that bloody witch to curse his lips again, or any part of him for that matter. _Especially not now that Emma has finally started kissing him._

She'd been gone for almost a week when a shrill, foreign noise blared through this cabin. Startling Killian out of the fragile sleep he'd finally, _finally_ , fallen into. With a low groan and some creative curses falling from his lips, he reached for his brace, unwilling to be caught vulnerable by whatever fresh hell awaited him. After a moment of disorientation, he realized the infernal noise was coming from the pocket of his leather jacket, hung neatly on a hook on the wall. Not a villain, but his talking phone, _of course._

Realizing there was no pressing danger, he dropped his hook back on the low shelf beside his bed and flopped back onto his pillow. His arm slung over his face, as if it could block out the sound. The incessant beeping continued, despite his best efforts to ignore it. He shifted slightly and glanced at the small clock beside his hook. The hands indicated it was mere minutes until four in the morning.

He groaned again, more loudly this time, when he realized it was pointless to go back to sleep. Years at sea had left him an early riser. Something which he was learning did not change, regardless of how much, _or how little_ , sleep he had gotten the night before. By the time he managed to fall back asleep, his bloody internal clock would wake him. He grit his teeth and threw back the thick blanket covering him with a long, drawn out sigh. While he may not be able to sleep, there was no reason he had to put up with the damned noise for another moment. He quite literally dragged himself out of bed and stumbled towards his jacket. The slats of wood cool against the bare soles of his feet.

He glanced at the contraption, turning it over in his hand as he pondered where in the realms the bloody quiet button was located. His heart skipped a beat when Emma's face shone brightly back at him from the screen. With a jolt, he realized she was calling him. Hastily, he flipped it open, furious at himself for having kept her waiting.

"S'emma," He mumbled into the phone, his voice heavy with sleep. He paced his cabin, suddenly filled with an impending sense of dread for her unexpected call. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Swan, what in the blazes is wrong?"

"You were asleep," She said. A statement, not a question. "It's late, _of course_ you were asleep." Despite the nagging feeling of concern still prickling at the base of his skull, he couldn't help but smile at the sound of her voice. However far away it sounded. The late, _early,_ hour and the feeling of exhaustion deep in his bones suddenly seeming trivial.

"S'all right," He replied, _truly meaning it_ , as he lowered himself back onto his bed. He kept his feet planted on the floor and rested his forearm against his thigh. His brows furrowed, he leaned heavily on his blunted arm, his hand cradling the phone to his ear. "Is everything alright? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just, God," Emma paused and took a long, stuttering breath. "I'm sorry I woke you, it's stupid."

"Nothing that has to do with you is _stupid_ , Swan," Killian replied. The shaky, unfamiliar lilt of her voice stoking the suffocating feeling of unease in his chest. He closed his eyes and wished he was with her. Imagined how he'd reach for her, tilt her chin up until her brilliant, green eyes met his own, imploring steely blues. Pictured how he would patiently, carefully wait until she saw the sincerity behind his words.

"No, believe me, it is," Emma said, with a short, humourless laugh.

"Tell me anyway," He said.

"I had a dream, and I just, I couldn't," She paused again, and sighed heavily. "I just, I just really wish you were here right now."

"As do I, Swan," Killian replied. _So bloody much_ , he thought to himself. He swallowed thickly. There was no use in making this more difficult for her than it had to be. He dropped his voice an octave before he continued, his bravado back in full swing. "I think you'd be pleasantly surprised with the sheer number of _distractions_ I'm _intimately_ familiar with, love."

"Oh my god," Emma scoffed. "You're not gonna ask me what I'm wearing, are you?"

"Should I?" Killian asked, his smile growing. He leaned back against the headboard, his head resting against the arm slung behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles. "Forgive me, love. This talking phone etiquette is unfamiliar territory."

"It's just called a phone, Killian," Emma chided and Killian could have sworn he heard her eyes roll through the device. He smiled to himself as she gave a weak laugh. Although the smile didn't adorn his face for long.

His stomach dropped like a rock and his smile quickly vanished when her flat laugh suddenly morphed into a choking sob. Inwardly, he cursed himself for clearly saying the wrong thing. Obviously, his ability to read his Swan was greatly diminished at four in the morning. Or perhaps it had to do with the fact that he couldn't read her body language and had only her voice to guide him. Regardless, he doubted he could have handled the situation any worse.

"Emma, Emma, sweetheart," He cooed into the phone. He clutched the phone so tightly, his hand began to ache. His shut his eyes tightly as her gut wrenching sobs cut through him like a thousand tiny razors. Gods, what he wouldn't give to be with her now. To take her into his arms and dry her tears. To whisper quiet words of adoration into her hair until she calmed. He supposed he would have to make due with simply his silver tongue. "Hey, it's alright. Talk to me, love. I'm here. I'm right here."

Gradually her sobs subsided, until she was simply sniffling loudly into the phone. It was likely only a couple of minutes, but it had felt like eons to Killian.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Killian asked carefully, for her benefit more than his. He didn't need her to tell him what she'd dreamt of. Of Cruella. And Henry. The Cliffs. _Even heroes make mistakes_. Though, if truth be told, he would hardly call her actions a mistake. Given the choice, he knew he would have made the same one, without hesitation. He wasn't sure if that would be a comforting thought to Emma or not, considering his past and his somewhat questionable status as a hero.

"No," Emma replied quickly, with a hard edge to her voice. Killian clenched his jaw, knowing she'd have to talk about it. At some point at least. If not to him, than to someone.

"Where are you?" He asked instead. There was no point in pushing her. His lass was as bloody stubborn as they came.

"In a hotel. In New York," Emma said, sniffling.

"Is Regina there with you?"

"She's with Robin and Roland, making sure they're safe," Emma said, quickly filling him in on the confrontation that had occurred between Zelena and the former Evil Queen.

"I wish you weren't alone, Swan," Killian said quietly. Images of her, red-eyed and alone in a strange city making his heart positively ache.

"Oh, God," Emma said, for a moment sounding like her old self. Like the Emma he'd climbed a beanstalk with. "Believe me, I would _so_ _much_ rather be alone than have to deal with Regina's sass about my _scary dream._ "

"If I leave now, I can be there by morning," He offered. He fought against the lump that was forming in his throat when he considered that she'd phoned him when she'd felt vulnerable. That she really, _truly_ was done running from him.

"What, Captain Hook is going to hitchhike to New York?"

"I'm not sure what _hitchhike_ is, but you of all people should know by now that I am nothing if not resourceful," He said in mock indignation. "Have you forgotten? I've found you in the city once before already. Without the _Jolly_ , no less."

"Like I could forget that," She said softly. Killian thought he could _almost_ hear the smile in her voice. "No, we'll be home in a couple days, and knowing you're keeping Henry safe, that's more important. It's just, seeing Regina with Robin today… I don't know, it just made me really miss you."

"I miss you too, love," He said quietly. A pregnant pause drifted between them. The distance between them suddenly seeming almost overwhelmingly vast.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Emma said at last. Her voice still far too shaky for Killian's liking. "And for acting like a crazy person. I'll let you get some sleep—"

"Have I ever told you of the time I accidentally stole a horse belonging to a prince?" He interrupted. Telling himself that he simply _selflessly_ wished to ensure she was alright before he ended their communication. That he wished to prolong their exchange solely for her benefit, not because he couldn't bring himself to part from the sound of her voice in his ear.

"How do you _accidentally_ steal a horse?" She asked with a laugh. A real one this time.

"Well, I was but a lad—"

"So, what? Like three hundred years ago?"

"Something like that," He said rolling his eyes with a smile. "Truthfully, the majority of the blame rested with Liam."

"Oh, I'm sure."

He told the story slowly, careful to avoid leaving out even the smallest detail. A smile tugged at the corner of his lip as he realized the rich timbre of his voice was having its desired effect and slowly soothing Emma. He began to relax, slowly sinking further and further down onto the bed, as he heard Emma's breathing become more shallow and even. Her sniffling more and more infrequent until it ceased altogether and he was fully lying down.

"Emma," Killian prompted softly as he came to the end of his tale. With a pang of guilt, it occurred to him that it had been a while since she had spoken.

"Mhmm?" She sighed into the phone.

"As much as I enjoy the sound of your voice," Killian said. "Perhaps you should try and get some sleep, love. I daresay you'll want to be rested tomorrow."

"Okay," Emma said after a moment. More than a little reluctance in her voice. "Killian?"

"Aye, love?" He shifted on the bed slightly. The phone was hot against his cheek from its extended use.

"Thank-you," Emma said softly. "I'm, I'm not used to having people, to needing someone…"

"There's no need to thank me," Killian said. "And Emma, I can assure you that you most definitely have me. For anything. Always."

"I know," Emma replied, quickly. The last remaining bit of tension drained from Killian's body when he heard the utter confidence in her tone. He smiled when he considered that perhaps he was finally getting through to her. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, Swan," Killian replied, his eyelids suddenly feeling heavier than they had in weeks. The screen went dark and he closed the device, reverently cradling it in his palm for a moment before he placed it on the shelf beside his hook. He fell asleep with a broad smile on his face, and for the first time in a long time, he remained asleep long after the sun rose.


	4. The Dread Pirate Jones

Killian had taken to Netflix as he had with almost everything in the realm without magic; hesitantly at first and then with an unexpected vehemence. He was one of the few inhabitants of Storybrooke with only one set of memories, _memories which did not include details on the ins and outs of the realm and its modern technology._ As such, he sought out anything which could make him more familiar with the world he now called home. While his research into this realm's customs often found him watching the strange moving pictures alone, he much preferred it when Emma joined him. Even though, _perhaps especially because,_ they rarely made it through an entire film before they became engaged in _much more pleasurable activities._

He breathed a sigh of contentment as he settled onto the Charming's couch, vaguely wondering which film they would half watch this evening. He had a sneaking suspicion it would not be much of anything, as he and Emma had quite unexpectedly found that they had the loft to themselves. However, as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, fiddling with the Netflix, he realized she seemed to have something else besides pillaging and plundering in mind. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, her lips tightly pursed, as she scrolled through the selection. She seemed restless, fidgeting beside him on the couch. He recognized her look immediately, _she had always been an open book to him_. This mood of deep concentration and pensiveness almost always accompanied her whenever she shared a piece of her past with him.

"What shall it be this evening, Swan?" He asked, as he casually draped his arm around her shoulders. He toyed with the ends of her hair, hoping to alleviate whatever tension clung to her bones.

"I was thinking The Princess Bride," Emma said with a small smile, as the rapid movement on the screen finally came to a rest. She always felt nervous recommending anything — _movies, tv shows, books, food —_ to _anyone._ The feeling of lingering apprehension only intensified as she considered sharing _this movie._ While she knew it was slightly ridiculous, it meant a great deal to her and she desperately wanted him to like it as much as she did.

"Is this one of those chicken flicks your lad warned me of?" He asked jovially, hoping to lighten the tension that had settled over the room.

" _Chick_ ," Emma corrected, opting not to mention that she knew for a fact that _chicken flicks_ were one of his favourite genres. She suspected he had a soft spot for the leads who managed to woo their woman. "And it's got a bit of everything. It's always been one of my favourites actually…"

"Then I have no doubt I will enjoy it immensely," Killian replied easily before he tucked her more securely against his side.

Emma sighed and curled up against him, her feet tucked neatly under her. She fiddled with the charms on his necklace, the remnants of her nervous energy demanding an outlet. Despite her markedly different circumstances, she couldn't help but feel a vague sense of nostalgia as the movie played. Her mind drifted back to all the times she'd watched this movie, her eyes red rimmed and her cheeks wet with tears after something had gone wrong with yet another foster family. _Because she hadn't been good enough_. In those moments of weakness she'd always wished for her own Westley to find her. For someone with eyes full of promise and sweet _as you wishes_ , to hold her and never let her go. But he'd never come, so she had grown up and realized that the only one who could save her was herself.

She snuck a furtive glance up at Killian, and had to bite her lip to hold back a smile when she saw the deep look of concentration painted on his face. It warmed her heart to see how deeply enthralled in the film he had already become; his interest decidedly piqued at the mention of pirates. His rapt attention soon gave way to booming laughs. At first Emma felt that he was just throughly enjoying the movie. It was only after a couple cryptic comments about the _sheer ridiculousness_ of the plot that she felt a prickle of irritation trickle down her spine. As the movie continued she began to suspect that he was laughing _at_ the movie instead of _with it_. Each note of his laughter grating further and further at her paper thin patience.

"Really?" Emma huffed, after one ill timed chuckle too many. She extracted herself from his arms, feeling only a little surprised with just how irritated Killian's reaction to the movie had made her. "If you're just going to make fun of it we don't have to keep watching," She reached for the remote, but Killian stilled her hand with his own.

"I'm not mocking the film," He replied quickly, his eyes still bright with his fresh laughter. "It's magnificent, Swan, truly. The magic of this realm just never ceases to amaze me."

"I told you, it's not magic, Killian," Emma said with a roll of her eyes. She slumped back onto the arm of the couch, trying to put as much space between herself and Killian as possible, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. She knew her reaction to Killian's less than favourable review of the movie was slightly over the top. _It wasn't as if he had to like_ ** _everything_** _she did._ But the whole situation had left her feathers ruffled and she couldn't bring herself to shake her annoyance. "It's technology and special effects and—"

"Aye, I've gathered that," He interrupted, the corner of his mouth quirking. "But the magic I was referring is the rather miraculous translation of the real lives of those in other worlds into mere stories for the people of this realm."

"And who's story is this?" Emma said, gesturing towards the TV, the movie still unfolding on the screen.

"Oh Emma, don't you see?" Killian said, as he tentatively inched closer to her on the couch. "It's ours," He continued with a soft smile. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"You, you think this is about us?" Emma asked incredulously, her eyes wide. "That we're Westley and Buttercup?"

"Well, at the very least they're based on us. There does always seem to be some discrepancies between reality and the stories of this realm," Killian replied. He gave a small shudder as he recalled the egregious tales of the demon child Peter Pan. _Waxed moustaches and perms indeed._ "Do you not?" He asked, raising his brow as he took in Emma's awestruck expression.

"There's bound to be similarities in _anything_ if you look hard enough—"

"A dashing pirate captain somehow manages to capture the fancy of a beautiful princess? Does that not sounds familiar to you, love?"

"That sounds like a lot of stories—"

"Bloody hell, there is even a giant, Swan," Killian said with a broad grin as Fezzik appeared on the screen to underscore his point.

"Well, I mean—"

"Do you not think me as dashing as Westley?" He asked, his eyes twinkling and a hint of mirth in his voice. "I could grow a ponytail if you desire, Swan—"

"Oh my god, Killian, stop," Emma said with a laugh. She gently lobbed a pillow toward his head, which he easily brushed aside. His eyes crinkled from the weight of his smile, notably elated at the sound of Emma's laugh.

"As you wish," He said, slowly crawling towards her, until his body covered her own, pinning her between himself and the couch. Their skin just a hairsbreadth from touching. "Though the Dread Pirate Jones does have a nice ring to it…"

"You _seriously_ think this movie is about us?" Emma asked, dumbfounded.

"Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles," He said, _ever the quick study_ , effortlessly rhyming off one of Peter Falk's iconic lines. "I'd say that's more than a passing similarity wouldn't you, Swan?"

"You think," Emma said, swallowing thickly to clear the lump that had settled in her throat. "You think our love is _true_?"

The tips of Killian's ears reddened and he scratched the back of his neck, resting his weight on his brace. He suddenly looked more like a befuddled deckhand than the suave pirate Captain Emma had become accustomed to. Emma's eyes darted between his own and felt a surprising pang of hurt in her chest at the doubt she saw shining back at her. His silence on the topic speaking volumes. Overwhelmed, she dropped her eyes and shifted beneath him, suddenly feeling unbelievably foolish. _True Love happened in stories, not to people like her._

"What makes you think we're not, that we don't have," Emma said, her voice faltering. "Is it because I'm, I mean I can be difficult—"

"Bloody hell, Emma," Killian interrupted, gently cupping her face with his hand and tilting her head until she met his eye. The intensity in his gaze pulled the air from her lungs in a small gasp. "It has nothing to do with you, I assure you."

"Then what?" Emma asked, her tone was laced with a deep desperation that made her voice sound foreign to her ears. She cleared her throat and jut her chin out defiantly, trying to regain some control. A feat not made particularly easy lying on her back, pinned beneath a leather clad pirate.

"Well, I attempted True Love's Kiss, Swan, back when you and Henry were in New York," He replied, his voice tight at the memory of his failure.

"True Love's Kiss doesn't work if you're don't remember your true love, Killian," Emma replied quietly, a small smile on her face and an almost embarrassing amount of hope surging deep within her chest. "Have you even looked at Henry's storybook?"

"Is that so?" Killian asked, his eyes suddenly bright and an impossibly wide smile donning his face. He couldn't help but think that this news was very auspicious indeed.

"Yeah," Emma said quietly, resting her hands on his waist. "I guess there's no way to know for sure until another curse comes along."

"What I do know," Killian said, playfully bumping his nose against hers. "Is that I have never doubted how I feel for you. And that what we have cannot be stopped by curses, or by death, or by darkness. And I love you, Emma Swan, as I have never loved another. And if that isn't True Love, I don't know what is."

"I love you too, Killian," Emma said without hesitation.

Killian's smile grew to an almost comical size, before he closed the distance between them and kissed her softly, his hand tangled in her hair. Emma arched into the kiss, relishing the taste of his smile and the feel of every inch of his body pressed tightly against hers. And in that moment, there was no lingering doubt or insecurities, no curses, or saviours, or darkness. There was only Killian and Emma.

"You're going to miss the end," Emma admonished with a nod towards the television when they finally broke apart, both more than a little breathless.

"I already know how it ends," Killian replied, his lips brushing against her jaw. The tickle of his scruff against her delicate skin pulling a low moan from her lips.

"Oh? And how's that?" She asked, rocking her hips against his, feeling satisfied that this time it was her who drew a deep groan from Killian.

"Because I know how our story ends," He said, leaning back to meet her gaze squarely before he continued. "The princess and the pirate succeed in spite of every obstacle and live happily ever after."

Speechless, Emma grabbed the lapels of his jacket and roughly pulled his mouth back to hers. She heard the promise in his words and could taste it in his kiss. As her hands threaded through his dark locks, pulling him closer, there was an unfamiliar, _but welcome_ , lightness in her chest. And as Wesley and Buttercup rode off into the night astride their white horses on the TV screen long forgotten, Emma couldn't help but feel like perhaps she had found her Westley, _her True Love_ , her happy ending, after all.


End file.
